Familiar
by you-idjits
Summary: Castiel accidentally sends Dean back in time, to 1985. There, he runs into John Winchester, on a hunt with his two young boys. In 2013, John's been dead for six years. But Dean gets to have a final conversation with his father. There's Destiel, but it's not integral to the plot. Mostly centers on the relationship between Dean and his father. T for swearing.


It was an accident, really.

Sam had been hunting solo for the past two weeks – long story involving several demons and a couple of leviathans – and so Dean was left with Castiel. They'd settled in a cheap motel and spent their days watching bad soap operas and eating pie. It was nice, to not have to worry about the next hunt. It was nice, Dean thought, to just be around Cas.

They'd been talking about time travel, and about Azazel, and Castiel… Well, it was an accident.

One moment, Dean is sitting on a couch in a motel room in Illinois, and the year is 2013. Then he blinks.

When he opens his eyes, he's surrounded by dark forest. He spins, his breath visible in the cold. What… What just happened?

He's been teleported by Castiel before, and he recognizes the feeling in the pit of his stomach. It's strong, which means maybe…

They were just talking about time travel.

Dean starts walking, unsure of his direction, and then picks it up to a slow jog. Damn it, Castiel. Of all the places to dump him, a forest? At _night_?

He sees something through the trees, a light. Now, after all these years of hunting, he knows better than to trust mysterious orange lights, but it looks like a campfire. And whether or not the time travel was an accident, Cas must have dumped him hear for a reason. Maybe it's some location nestled in his subconscious? He thinks he's been in this forest before, but it's late at night and he's still wrapping his head around the situation, so he can't tell for sure.

He breaks the line of trees, and sure enough, the light was from a campfire. But before Dean has time to take in his surroundings, he hears a very familiar sound – the sound of a gun cocking.

His hands fly to the back of his head, almost on instinct. And then, a voice so familiar it almost brings tears to his eyes:

"Who the hell are you?"

John Winchester stands not ten feet from him, aiming Dean's favorite sawed-off right at his head.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down! I'm no demon!"

The gun doesn't waver. "How do you- answer my question!"

"It's… kind of a long story." Dean takes the opportunity to look around. The Impala is parked just outside a ring of logs. John's set up a fine camp in this clearing. And then- no way.

"What year is it?" he asks his father.

"Why are you asking?"

"Please! Just answer the question."

"You didn't answer mine." John hesitates, then adds, "1985."

Oh, shit. Which would mean the six year old boy sleeping over there is him.

"You're kidding." He drops his hands, finally. There's no way this is happening. His dad is _dead_. And Castiel, what has he done? Dean can't be here. It goes against every rule. Don't angels have some kind of red tape too?

Dean kicks the ground, cursing under his breath.

"I'll ask you one more time," says John slowly, "just tell me your name?"

How the hell is he supposed to get out of this one? He can't tell John the truth, can he?

"Please, just put the gun down. I'm not here to hurt you. I- I'm lost."

"You said something about demons. You a hunter? I've never seen you at the Roadhouse."

Dean feels a twinge in his chest, for Ellen and Jo. God, he misses them too. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm a hunter."

"You've been tracking this Wendigo too, then?"

"Wendigo? Yeah- yeah, I am." So that's why they're out in the forest, and not in some motel. Wait… he remembers this hunt. 1985. His dad made sure he and Sammy stayed inside the ring of salt. Dean leans forward, and sees a salt ring just inside the logs.

John finally lowers the gun, and beckons Dean to sit down.

"So," Dean says, "what have you found out so far?"

John shakes his head. "I'm not answering any more of your questions, not until you answer some of mine."

If Castiel sent him here, even on accident, it must have been for a reason. He has to keep reminding himself of that. He has to say something to John.

God, he wants so badly to just hug his father. It's been years since they last saw each other. And even though Dean's come to terms with his death, it's still difficult to see him alive and well again.

Dean hesitates, then sits down on a log, as far away from his six-year-old self as possible. "Those are your kids?"

"Answer the question. You still haven't told me your name. You may have made it over the salt, but I'm not entirely sure you're a hunter just yet."

This is surreal. He's staring at himself as a child, and nestled in young Dean's arms is two-year-old Sam. His father is alive. The year is 1985.

"I- I can't really explain it, but you've got to trust me."

"Try me. Just tell me your name."

Dean hesitates. If he lies, John might trust him even less. But if he tells the truth… No, he's got to tell the truth. This is his father. He will lie to anyone, but not to John. Not to the man who sold his soul for Dean.

"Look, I've been hospitable. I haven't shot you. The least you can do is tell me your name."

Dean laughs. "You really don't want to know."

They sit in silence for a minute, and then John says, "Okay, let's compromise. For each of my questions you answer, I'll answer one of yours."

Dean shakes his head. This is crazy. He can't do this. But… "Fine."

"Your name."

He sucks in a breath, rubs his hands on his knees. He turns his head and meets his father's eyes. "Dean Winchester."

The gun is back out, cocked, and aimed at his heart. "Get the hell out of here! Who are you? And how do you know my son's name?"

Dean raises his hands, reluctantly this time. "I told you, you wouldn't want to know."

"What are you, a demon? A shapeshifter?"

"Neither. I'm… I'm your son."

"No, no, my son's over there. He's _six_."

"I… Do you believe in time travel, John?"

"Hell no. And how do you know my name?"

He should just leave. He should leave right now, and find a way to get back to 2013. Back with Cas, and soap operas and pie. This is a disaster.

"My name is Dean Winchester. I'm 32 years old, and I'm your son. I'm just as confused as you are, but I know that much."

"Prove it."

"My mother was murdered by A- a demon, two years ago. I carried my brother out of the house, right before the demon lit it on fire. You said these words: 'Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back.'"

"How do you-"

Dean laughs cynically. "This is straight out of Back to the Future, this is. Look, I'm Dean. I'm Dean in 2013."

"2013? That's impossible. You can't be, you're bluffing. Some kind of demon."

"How else would I know that?"

"What have you done to my son?"

"I haven't done anything! I _am_ your son! I remember this exact hunt! I remember being cold. You said I had to stay inside the salt, you left me with that exact shotgun! That's my favorite shotgun, Dad. You think I wouldn't remember it?"

John mumbles the word Dad, quietly. He drops the gun at his feet. "No. This is impossible."

"That's coming from the guy who hunts demons."

He smiles that crooked smile of his. God, Dean has missed that smile. All these years…

Dean hates soap-opera moments with his family, but he can't help himself this time. He pulls his father in for a hug.

John tenses, but then wraps his arms around his son. When they pull away, he says, "This is surreal."

"You're telling me."

"How did you get here? I'm still not sure I believe…"

"It was kind of an accident." Dean rubs his chin, thinking back to earlier.

"And they- they have time travel in 2013?"

Dean laughs. "No, not exactly. I, uh, I have friends in high places." If he can call Castiel _just a friend_.

John shakes his head. "I don't believe this. You can't be here. You're six years old, Dean. I just taught you to shoot."

Dean smiles. "And I hit every beer bottle on the first try. God, that was a good day."

"You- Hell, of course you remember it."

"You gotta trust me, Dad. I know you think I might be a bad guy, but I'm not. I just turned up here, in this forest. It was an accident that I got sent back, but no accident that I got sent to right here. I'm supposed to talk to you, I think."

"Dean from the future. My baby boy. Damn, you've grown up." He ruffles Dean's hair, and that feels so good again. Dean's forgotten how much he misses his father. "Handsome, too. You still hunting?"

"Yeah, me and Sammy. Same old, same old."

"And me? Am I with you too?"

Dean's breath catches in his throat. "Sometimes, yeah. Sammy and I tend to hunt separately from you. But we see you ever now and then."

"Sammy. How old is he? 28?"

Dean laughs. "Yeah, he's taller than me now."

"I can't believe I'm talking to you."

"You're taking it pretty damn well, the whole Dean-from-the-future thing."

John shakes his head, chuckling. "No, I'm freaking out inside. It's just… It's nice to see you all grown up, Dean. To know you're safe, in the future."

"You raised me well."

"I don't know if I'd call it that."

"No, Dad, you did. I'm proud of you. And Sammy, he'd say the same. You- you always put us first."

John sighs. "Like right now? Sleeping in a forest when you should be in grade school?"

"It doesn't matter. We save a lot of lives, the three of us. It's worth it." Dean hesitates. "Sometimes, sometimes it's hard. We lose a lot of people – Mom, for example. But this job, it's worth it."

"A lot of people? Who else do we lose, Dean?"

Dean pales. He shouldn't be telling John about his own future. "Well, uh, that's confidential."

"Are you- are you okay? In the future. You and Sammy."

Of course. That's what his father cares about. John is right, sometimes he wasn't the best dad. But in the end, his main concern was always his boys. "Yeah, no, we're fine. We die a couple of times, I mean, but Sam and I are like weeds. Just keep on coming back."

"Time travel. Returning from the dead. O brave new world…"

"I shouldn't be telling you these things."

"You could tell me how to beat this Wendigo, at least."

"You- you don't know how?"

"Hell no, it's my first time facing one of these things. Any pointers?"

"Well, I mean, I remember how you fought it then- now, I guess. When I was him." Dean nods to his younger self, still asleep. It's a miracle he and Sam have slept through all this. "Uh, you used silver. Silver-tipped stuff. It doesn't kill it, but it'll injure well enough. Then you torched it. That worked."

"This is recursive, isn't it? You remember that happening because you told me about it. Anything else you remember?"

Dean thinks back, to all those years ago, on this cold hunt. "Yeah. Yeah, you told me you were proud of me."

"I did?"

Dean shrugs. "I remember it because it didn't happen too often, I guess. It meant a lot to me."

"I'll make sure I say it, then."

They both laugh. It's been a while since Dean's laughed with his father.

Even if this is confusing, even if it was an accident, he's glad for this second chance. He's grateful for one last conversation with his father.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"Do we beat it? This demon." When Dean doesn't respond, he further prompts, "The son-of-a-bitch who killed your mother."

He's not sure if he should tell the truth. But then Dean thinks back to all those desperate years, when he wasn't sure if he'd live or die. When he wasn't sure the crusade would ever end. And John, he knows John felt the same. Hope, even a little, would make it worthwhile.

"Yeah. Yeah, we get him."

John sighs, as if the heavy weight is lifted off his shoulders. He's been carrying that weight for two years. He's got another twenty to go.

"Thank God. And-"

"Dad, I can't tell you any more than that. I can't change your future like that."

"I understand."

It's been years since they fought Azazel at the Devil's Gate in Wyoming. Dean remembers vividly every second of that hellish night. That was the night he sold his soul for his brother. He saw John's ghost that night, but there's no way in hell he can tell 1985-John that.

"So. Why are you here? And how will you get back? I don't suppose there's any way I can help."

Dean shakes his head. "No, it's fine. The kids can't find out I was here. I've already said too much to you. And Castiel, he'll figure out what happened eventually, and he'll call me back."

"Castiel? This is your… friend? The one who can travel through time."

"Yeah, that's him. He's an angel."

"Nice guy, huh? I'm glad you've made good friends."

Dean laughs. "No, Dad, he's literally an angel. Sent from heaven and everything."

It takes a moment for John to respond. "Okay, that was too much information. I need to get my head around this." After half a minute, he continues, "So, this angel, Castiel, sent you back in time on accident, to this spot. Why?"

Dean shrugs. "We were just in this cheap motel together, in 2013. Sammy's on a solo hunt right now. And we were talking about time travel. This night, must have been somewhere in my subconscious. When Cas sent me back on accident, I must have latched on to this location."

"That makes sense… I guess. Hell, none of this makes sense."

"You can't tell me, Dad. As I'm growing up, you have to pretend like this never happens. I can never know that I go back in time to see you. This conversation never happened, okay? You can't ever tell me, not even when you-" No. He can't finish that sentence.

"I understand. And this Castiel fellow, you don't meet him for some time?"

"Yeah. He brings me back from the dead, literally. And then we just sort of- clicked."

John gives his son a sidelong glance. "Castiel… he's not just a friend, is?"

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but realizes there's no way he can lie to his father. So he just avoids his eyes.

"It's funny, isn't it? I fell in love with a fallen angel."

"I always pegged you as more of a ladies' man, Dean. Not that there's anything wrong with it!"

"I am. I always have been. But Cas, he's just… he's special."

"The exception to the rule, eh? Does he know how you feel?"

"Hell no."

"Well, I'm happy for you, I guess. That you've found somebody to care about, somebody besides the family. I always say no attachments, not after what happened to your mother, but if he's what you say he is…"

"Yeah. All that, and more." Dean smiles, just thinking of his angel.

"And Sam? Has he found someone?"

"Nah. Poor guy, everyone he falls for dies."

John has nothing to say to that.

They sit in silence, for a moment. The only sounds are the crackling of the fire and Sammy's quiet snoring.

Finally, Dean says, "Dad… Thank you."

"What for?"

He shakes his head. "Everything. I just… I've really missed talking to you."

"Dean? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Forget I said anything."

"Okay. Me too, though. I'm glad I got to see you all grown up, in case I don't, you know."

Dean tries to ignore the lump in his throat. "You're not a perfect dad, but you're _my_ dad. And I… I love you. Don't forget it, even when I'm angry at you. Sam, he loves you too. You guys are gonna have some bad fights, down the road. But he and I both love you."

He hates the mushy stuff, but right now, it just feels like the right thing to say.

John pats his son on the back. "Back at you. Sam's just learning to walk now. You're both so young. But seeing you like this, a full-grown adult. You're taking care of yourself. I have no doubt in my mind that you are my son."

They lock eyes, and both smile. It's the same smile – like father, like son. "That's me," Dean says, "John Winchester's boy."

He blinks, and when he opens his eyes again his father is gone. But in his place sits Castiel, which is almost as good.

**A/N: Hell, I've given up on finishing old stories. But I might, just maybe, write a second part to this, if you like it. Just, you know, Dean telling Sam and Cas about what happened. Maybe.**


End file.
